Recipe for success

I am a processor.  What I mean by that is that when something significant happens in my life, I have to talk and talk and talk and talk about it to process the event and deal with it accordingly.  My husband would probably say this is the thing he likes least about me.  Well, he can suck it, because that's just who I am.  Not processing things makes my head a swirling mess of anxiety.

I happened across a blog today via Pinterest in which a woman chronicles her baby weight loss journey.  You can find this blog HERE.  I poked around a little bit, and the thought occurred to me that even though I have struggled with weight my entire life, I really don't talk about it.  Maybe a blog would help me process this ever-present issue in my life and perhaps lower the amount of money I spend on therapy!  WIN-WIN!

If you are one of those people like the lady in the a fore-mentioned blog who can say, "I committed and then I just did it," good for you!  That is not me.  I can "commit" and then 5 minutes later go get hot fudge cake from Frisch's.  *side note: the hot fudge cake from Frisch's that I just got done eating was D-E-LICIOUS.  But now I'm toooooootally committed.*  So for those of you who might look at me and say, "why doesn't she just eat healthier?" or "why doesn't she just work out more?", you can suck it right along with my husband.  I have 30 years of practice in engaging in unhealthy habits to work through, and it's just NOT that easy.  Food makes me happy, even though my semi-cross-eyed Jenny Craig counselor told me that food does not have feelings...I know food doesn't have feelings you frickin' wack-a-doodle.  I'm not a moron.

I probably should apologize for the almost assured use of foul language in this blog, but it's my blog and I can say what I want.  I now have a child who is almost one whole year old, so I need to restrict myself in my real life.   And besides, I'm doing this for me, not for you.

So what do I want?
Most of all, I want to be a good role model in making healthy life decisions for my son.
I want to be able to run around with him, playing and laughing, without feeling like I need someone to emergently jab the tube of a ball-point pen into my lungs to keep me breathing.
It would also be nice if I jiggled less when I walk.

I don't know how I will get there, or if I ever even will.  I love disgusting food, I hate working out, and I have no self-control.  I hate motivational quotes and signs, and I will punch you in the face if you say to me "are you sure you want to eat that?"  Sounds like a recipe for success to me!!